Page 44 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
And when Damien awoke, he ordered his men to make haste to Morighe.
More than once, Helena told herself that she would not rush to him when he returned.
Only, when she heard drums beat in welcome two days later—for she knew of the famous drums of Morighe now—she hastened to the gate.
She should at least be there to greet Damien, should she not?
A nervous smile flitted over her face as she stepped outside, blinking in the bright winter sunlight just starting to fall to the west. But her heart sank as she beheld the tall, thin man jumping down from a black horse.
“Greetings, Daughter.”
“Welcome, Father,” Helena said, trying to smile, but instead feeling choked inside by thorns.
Her father gave her a familiar, sneering smile that seemed reserved only for her. “Glad to see that you did not run off.” He paused. “Perhaps my letter got lost?”
Helena came forward, trying to smile, even as she felt it sliding off her face. “Letter?”Right, the letter to invite him here.“Oh, we were going to write one soon, yes.”
“Soon.” Her father’s eyes narrowed on Morighe, and she felt a surge of protectiveness. “Not soon enough, if you hope to save your reputation.” He moved closer. “I hope you at least have the sense to keep that beast of a Scot happy in the bedchamber, girl.” A snort escaped him. “I’d worried about the Northerners’ appetites with you, Lady Highbrow, but you did kiss the one-eyed lout and live.”
CHAPTER 18
Jerking back from her father,Helena stared at him, her stomach churning, and he rolled his eyes.
“Do not play the innocent, girl. I’m glad to see you standing.” He paused. “Where is your betrothed?”
Helena could barely speak through her numb lips. “Not here, at the moment,” she began. “Urgent business took him away from Morighe, but I?—”
“You foolish whelp,” her father hissed, and her shoulders jumped up as she took a step back. “What have you done now? Must you ruin everything?”
Her father lifted his hand, and Helena flinched for a split second, then she saw Damien in the back of her head, felt the stones of Morighe under her feet, and stood straighter.
“Remember that I am to be Lady here, Father,” she said coolly. “Striking me would be a grave insult.”
Her father’s hand twitched and then caught her arm in what looked like a paternal gesture, but his fingers dug into her sleeve hard enough to bruise. She tried not to grimace as he leered at her.
“Oh, a few weeks in the north and you are one of them, eh?” He leaned in. “I am still your father, so I shall not forget this grave insult.”
Helena bit back a cry as he squeezed hard and then stepped away. She forced herself not to balk or rub at her arm. Instead, she focused on her pride in standing her ground, even if she dreaded that it had only riled her father further.
Before either could say another word, a carriage rattled in, and for a moment, Helena thought her sister was shrieking—or crying? No, what was that sound? She furrowed her brow as the footman hurried to open it, and then a small, gangly ball of yellow fur burst out, tumbling down the steps and then landing in a heap.
“Jolly!” cried Sophia, springing out after the puppy, who yipped and gamboled about. He stopped to sniff a wooden post and then lifted his leg. “What a good dog.”
“A dog?” Helena asked, a smile spreading across her face. “Sophia, where did he come from?”
She knelt and got the dog’s attention, unable to keep from smiling as it gamboled over and licked her outstretched fingers. It soothed the sting of her father’s words, and she reminded herself sternly not to let him get to her.
Ignore him, that’s the only way to deal with him. It doesn’t mean anything
Sophia landed in a graceless heap next to him, and he made a harsh sound of protest.
“We rescued him on the road,” Sophia explained, then threw her arms around Helena’s neck, nearly knocking her over. “Oh, I missed you so much, Lena. I didn’t know how long it would be until I saw you again.”
Helena looped an arm around her younger sister, squeezing her close. Even though their father had made sure that Sophia had the finest nurses, governesses, and other staff looking after her, they were no substitute for a mother. Their stepmother had doted on Sophia in her own way when the mood struck her, but it was to Helena that Sophia had often looked.
It wasn’t enough…
As much as Helena had tried, her father had sent Sophia to finishing schools, or off with governesses, or with their stepmother to town. For as careful as he’d been with Sophia’s servants, he was careless with who minded Helena, and she’d spent most of her time either reading or convincing her stepmother to send her to Emma’s home.
